Intimacy
by Wiccan PussyKat
Summary: He is my very heart's twin, my soul's desire, my twisted obsession since I first did lay my eyes upon him...I don't know how I would fare without him..." Somewhat dark, not the kind of fluff you might expect.


**Disclaimer: I make no claim to be the goddess herself, JK Rowling, or ownership of the following characters. I claim no profits from this harmless bit of fun. I make no claim to have the imagination for a funny disclaimer, either. If you want them, there are plenty of good ones out there.**

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** _Intimacy_**

"Ginny? Ginny, are you there? Hello?"

Hermione stepped into the seemingly empty room. The curtains were still drawn, despite it being nearly noon, and the place was a mess. Books and ornaments thrown carelessly across the wooden floor, stained with wine and smashed glasses. It was a stark contrast with the normally immaculate living room that Hermione had come to know.  
  
It was a Sunday morning, one of the rare ones that she was allowed a reprieve. Hermione had recently turned twenty years old, making it the fourth year of the infamous Second War against Voldemort. Four years, but it seemed much longer for all of them. Many battles had been fought during that time, and many casualities had been lost, which she knew weighed heavily on Harry's mind, as it did hers.

They had all come face to face with death a number of times, and looking back, it was nothing short of a miracle that any of them had survived this far. Not all of them had been so lucky - or should it be unlucky? Percy. Dean. Padma. Flitwick. Cedric. Sirius. Just a few of those which had been lost. The war was still going strong, which meant that many, including Harry, Hermione, and Ron, had been pulled into the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix, despite not having full Auror training. Things were getting desperate, and Dumbledore had reluctantly agreed that they needed all the help they could get.

Time had taken it's toll on the powerful old mage; lines of worry were etched deeply into his skin, and the bright blue eyes that were his trademark were more often devastatingly weary than twinkling with good humour. Lately, though, things had been very quiet. Death Eater attacks had seemingly ceased, and there was very little dark activity at all. The tabloid headlines were not screaming death figures for once. (Not that Hermione knew this first-hand - she had stopped caring about what the papers said years ago).

This silence disturbed Hermione greatly. What were they up to? They must be planning something big...she was certain the 'peace' was intended to lull them all into a false sense of security, but rather than relax, she was now constantly on her guard, and had, sadly, learned to trust very few. It was sometimes hard to tell who was a traitor and who was not. However, weeks of them all being tense and alert had exhausted her, and this weekend had been given to her and a few others to unwind. Relax. And so it was that Hermione had been on her way to Harry and Ginny's.  
  
The pair had gotten together during their sixth (Ginny's fifth) year of Hogwarts. Harry had not been dealing with the loss of his godfather well, and at times, Ginny's comfort was the only thing that seemed to revive him. They had been very much in love ever since, and Ron was thrilled. There was no one he trusted more than his dark-haired best friend, and knew that they made a perfect match. They were now married and living together, despite the less than ideal circumstances. They were both very young, and had the ever-present threat of the Dark Lord above all of their heads - particularly Harry's - but Ginny had once confided to Hermione that her heart had been married to his since the very first time she saw him, so why shouldn't they be married legally, too?  
  
Hermione made her way up tentatively to the master bedroom, still calling out her friends' names. "Harry? Ginny? Is anybody here?" A muffled sob gave her an answer, and she doubled her pace, pushing open the door.

"Ginny!"

Ginny Weasley was sitting hunched up on the floor, still in her nightclothes. She looked awful. Her long, red hair was a dishevelled mess, and her freckled cheeks were pink and blotchy, stained with tears. Blue eyes were bloodshot and swollen. The room smelled stale and unpleasant - there was an empty bottle resting on the nightstand.

Hermione flew to her friend. "Ginny, Ginny, what's wrong? Where's Harry?" At the mention of her husband, the redhead burst into a fresh wave of tears, and Hermione felt a cold dread in the pit of her stomach. "Ginny!"

"He - I - he -g-g-one..." She sobbed, seemingly unable to get the words out. Hermione put her arms around the younger girl and rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words into her ear while Ginny cried onto her shoulder. They stayed like that for what seemed a long time, until her sobs had diminished.

"Are you ready to tell me now"? Hermione whispered gently. Ginny nodded slowly, her gaze on the floor. "We...we had a fight," she began in a trembling voice. This did not surprise Hermione. She had been suspecting something like that from the state the house was in. All couples fought sometimes - even Harry and Ginny, in their picturesque relationship - so naturally she would be upset, even though Hermione could count the times she had seen her usually vibrant and fiery friend in such a state on one hand. But this seemed like something more.

"It was silly, really. He had come home late - again - and was in a foul mood. I was, t-too...I was worried, you see, I tthought he'd been with another w-woman..." she hiccupped, tears filling her eyes again.

"Ginny! You know he'd never do anything like that! He loves you, and I've known him for years, he would never cheat on you!"

"I know, I know!" Ginny wept pitifully, her head in her hands. "He would never ch-cheat on me, but I was so w-worried about him always staying out so late, I..." "Anyway. We both ended up having a blazing row, both of us screaming at the other..I s-said some really terrible things, Hermione." Ginny's gaze dropped and her voice lowered to a mere whisper. "I said - oh, I said I hated him! I said I wished we'd never gotten together, that getting married was a mistake...that I should have stayed with Dean Thomas. I'd be a widow by now, but at least he treated me nicely..." Hermione's eyes widened. She couldn't imagine her friend saying those things.

"Oh, Ginny, how could you?" She asked sadly. Ginny was sobbing again.

"I know! I know i shouldn't have...I didn't MEAN it, truly I didn't! I was just so...so f-frustrated and a-angry..." This Hermione could understand. Ginny had a stereotypical redhead temper, something she inherited from her mother. She was about to speak, but Ginny cut her off, her voice shrill.

"This was last night, and he hasn't come back! I've been so scared....and then, a few hours ago, Dad flooed here. He said that...that..."

The cold dread increased and tightened. "He said what, Ginny?"

"That...oh....that Harry was found this morning! He was in the river...he's dead, Hermione! Harry's dead, he killed himself, and it's all my fault..."

As the redheaded girl sat crying, Hermione simply stared, dumbstruck. This couldn't be happening...it couldn't be true... "No," she whispered, "No, I don't believe it. i don't believe it."

Ginny thrust a sodden Daily Prophet into her hands. Shaking, Hermione slowly opened it, eyes widening in horror at the page. "Boy Who Lives No More!" The headline shrieked, and there was a photograph of a body being dragged out of a river... bile rose in her throat, and she dropped the paper, not wanting to read the words of the article that she knew would not make sense to her reeling mind anyway. Ginny's arms suddenly extended around her shoulders, and the two girls sat there, holding each other, weeping and mourning their fallen friend until the sun set in the cloudy sky.

_That night_  
  
It was time. It was finally time.The day she's been waiting for since her first year. It was then that she met him. Not directly, of course, she knew that, but since then, she's become infatuated with him. He is...so beautiful, so perfect, even if no one else sees it. In the brief time that they had been together, in secret, he had shown her the light. Which, ironically, was the dark. He had made her see that her being sorted into Gryffindor was a joke - she is a true Slytherin, he said, and always had been. Ever since then, she's been living a lie. An endless facade. Oh, she had tried to deny it to herself at first, but after so long being surrounded by meddling, idiotic fools - Gryffindor hearts, indeed - she had become more and more disdainful of them, and began to see, more and more, how right he was.

There is no good, no evil, just power. No black and white, merely shades of grey. She was so tired of being the good girl. So very tired. So she had to pretend, not that it was too hard. She's always been smart, and a good actress to boot. No one has ever suspected a thing, but now her work here is done. She looks at the girl's body in front of her, illuminated by the light of the full moon shining shrough the window, hair dishevelled, eyes wide and glassy, clothes stained with scarlet blood from a slit neck that no longer pumps out blood. There would be no more pretending anymore.

Her black robes swirl around her in a manner that would make Severus Snape proud, and she slips down the mask over her maliciously glinting eyes and grim, almost feral, smile. The mask that would, ironically, allow her to finally show her colours. Of what has always been on the inside.  
  
And with that, Lady Ginevra Riddle slips into the shadows to join her lover.

_ The End_

**_A/N: Well, you couldn't expect a fluffy piece of H/G drivel from me, could you? This is my first REAL attempt at fanfiction, even if it is only a one-shot, and I'm just a bit insecure about it, so comments would be VERY much appreciated! I won't say "No flames", because I'm open to constructive criticism, and it probably wouldn't stop you anyway. _**

**_Thanks for taking the time to read! _**

**_Blows out the candle_**

**_ Blessed Be,_**

**_ PK_**


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